Rumor has it that you’re here in Austin filming a movie! Actually it’s not really a rumor because there are tons of internet photos out there proving that you’re in Austin filming a movie. So forget I said “rumor has it.” I was just trying to sound cute and flip because (OMG) you’re Ryan Gosling and I imagine that’s how you probably talk. Like, “Rumor has it you’re not wearing any panties, Baby Princess Face. Now let’s do a shot of Midori and substantiate that.” Hahaha! Have you ever said something like that, Ryan? (But more important, will you? WILL YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, RYAN?)
The internet tells me the movie you’re filming is called The Untitled Terrence Malick Project, so congratulations on that, man! Mr. Malick is considered a genius by many people in the film industry. Mostly because he makes incredibly boring movies, but puts hot guys in them so pretentious suckers will buy a ticket before passing out face-first in their popcorn. (See: Brad Pitt, The Tree of Life, Richard Gere, Days of Heaven, Sissy Spacek, Badlands.) I also heard that your co-star in your new movie is The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo‘s Rooney Mara, which I guess is a good thing. After all, it takes real acting chops to kiss an eyebrow-less 80-pounder in dire need of Xanax and make it look convincing, right? But enough about her.
The reason I’m writing is to tell you that while I’d really, really like to stalk you during your stay in Texas, I honestly don’t have the time to drive the 8 miles into downtown to do so. I know, WTF?! Who doesn’t have time to stalk you!? But seriously, between complaining about my allergies, folding laundry and spying on my asshole neighbors so I can nail down which one of those mouth breathers stole our jack-o-lantern, I’m completely swamped. Therefore, Mr. Gosling, may I humbly request that The Mountain come to Mohammed this time? In other words, pack your suitcase, fill up your tank and get yo ass down to Suburban Wankerland, y’all!
Now before you say “no” via a 10-page legal document hand-delivered by a surly Texas Ranger, hear me out. Evidence shows that you like coffee:
Yep, that’s you at a “local coffee shop” that we all know is really Jo’s on South Congress. But guess what, Ryan? We have coffee out here, too! For example, there’s Starbucks. And Starbucks. And the other Starbucks that nobody goes to because it’s inside a grocery store and the barrista smells like vitamins. Or get this—I could just make you coffee in my house. Seriously, I have gallons of creamer and I’ll even let you choose your own “I Love Cats” mug from my amazing cat mug collection. (A very big honor.)
Here’s yet another photo that shows you “headed to a gym” in Austin. No uncool “gym bag” for you, I see. Well, guess what, friend? We have gyms by my house, too! Specifically, in my house because I just threw out all of the kids’ toys and turned their playroom into Ryan’s Room. Oh, yes, I did! I have towels, mirrors, weights and quite a few unused 1998 Tae-Bo VHS tapes waiting for you to enjoy. Also, steroids. And I’m even willing to install a rock wall if you and your movie star pecs need one to climb while I capture it all on slow-mo High-Def. (And that little film would definitely sell way more copies than your Terrence Malick thing, trust me.)
Finally, as if America’s women couldn’t love you more, here you are in Austin with your mother Donna. Awwwww, what a lovely woman! Who looks to be safely 30 years older than me judging by her hairstyle, skin tone and penchant for loose-fitting clothing that I personally don’t need to wear because I keep it tight for the three weeks a month I’m not on my period. So obviously my crush on you isn’t a weird mother-figure type thing. In fact, you and I are basically the same age and probably like the same bands like The Arctic Monkeys, which is a band, I’m pretty sure. You two look so sweet!
Trust me, Gos, your mother would totally feel comfortable in my neighborhood because there’s a Chico’s and nobody has car alarms or pierced faces. Plus if she’s into bedazzled crucifix necklaces and Che Guevara hats with pastel flowers on them, my neighbor ladies can definitely hook her up at one of their excruciating home parties. It’s like Donna Gosling heaven out here! Happy hour at our Chili’s totally rocks! (And not to mention the three wine bars, Pilates Palace and Michael’s Crafts we have at the mall. SO MUCH FUN.)
So there you go! That’s my pitch, Ryan. The Suburban Wanker’s plea. I really, really hope you’ll consider helping me stalk you by driving out to my neighborhood. Because while we’re only 8 miles apart now, with a little hard work, a little mileage and a whole lot of periomenopausal desperation and outright freakiness, I know that I can make you wish it was even more.